


Justice is Revenge

by goth_on_ham



Category: Would You Rather (2012)
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 20:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10258070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: Julian finds out what it's like to be a player in someone else's game.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A friend and I both wrote a fic from the same idea. 'Julian gets chased in the woods by the relative of a former victim that he assaulted. If he gets caught, he will be raped.'  
> You can read her story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10258250).  
> Warnings for graphic rape, some other violence, and bad things happening to bad people.

“Look, I’ll give you anything you want. Just don’t do this!”

“Anything?”

“Yes! Yes, of course!”

Michael shook his head with an amused, disapproving snort. He stabbed the knife that he was holding into the surface of the table so that it stood up on its own.

“Very well then, Shep.” He regarded the older man with nothing short of disgust. He would live. Michael had bound his hands to the arms of a chair and smashed one of his hands with a hammer. It must hurt, a lot, but it was far from fatal. “Let’s play a round of your favourite game.”

“What?” Shepard’s eyes widened, unable to keep the fear from his face. His mind was no doubt already filling with all of the horrible, agonising choices that Michael might make him choose between.

“Don’t look so worried, I have a feeling that this choice will be easy for you.” 

That didn’t seem to relax him. 

“Would you rather I kill you or your son?”

—

He said he would give Julian a fifteen minute head start.

The younger Lambrick was told very plainly what would happen when he was caught. 

“I’m going to shove you onto the ground and rape you. Then, I’m going to slit your throat like a pig and leave you there for the dogs to eat.”

Julian had tried to reason with him. Or at least, he’d started shouting that he was crazy and that he’d never get away with it. Michael had just shrugged.

“I guess I am crazy, grief can do that to people.” He replied impassively, loading up his gun and then shoving it into his belt. “You ready to go?”

“No! Look. just fucking wait a minute-“

“Wait for what? You think if you stall long enough your daddy’s going to burst in with Bevans and his army of butlers to save you?” Michael’s expression went from nonplussed to mean, and Julian wanted to scream and shout and tear the sneer from his captors’ face. But he couldn’t. Besides the gun, and the knife, and Michael’s considerably more muscular physique, he was tied to a chair. He wouldn’t be untied until he made his mind up.

“I’ve got bad news for you, kid. No one’s coming for you. Your dad traded your life for his.”

“That’s not true.” Julian said, straight away, with conviction in his voice that he wished he felt in his soul. His father had told him over and over that he was the future of the Lambrick name, that he was his only heir and that he had so much to live up to. He had expectations for him. He’d said this even though Julian didn’t give a shit about any of that. He believed that his father had been serious about all of it, but he also believed Michael when he told him that Shepard had sacrificed his life for his own. His father was selfish, just like him.

He believed that no one was coming for him.

“Afraid it is.” 

“He’ll come for me and you’ll be dead. But first, we’ll make you  _ wish  _ you were dead.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re going to fucking regret this!” Julian’s voice cracked as he screamed, his wrists pulling against the ropes that bound him to the chair and his legs straining against their bonds too. It was a futile attempt to kick and bruise and just  _ hurt  _ his captor.

He screamed and swore and threatened him, listing all the horrible things he would do to him until his voice grew hoarse and he could shout no more.

“You’re wearing yourself out.” Michael remarked after calmly listening to the murderous tirade. “It would have been wiser to conserve your energy. You have a long night ahead of you.”

“You bastard.” Julian croaked. 

“It’ll be no fun if you’re easy to catch.” Michael admitted, walking over to the kitchen sink and filling up a tall glass with water. Then, he walked back to Julian and placed it in front of his lips. “Take a drink. Then we’ll get started. I’m being kinder than you deserve, I’m giving you a fifteen minute head start. That’s more than you gave any of your victims, right?”

Julian thought about refusing the water. But he needed it. His throat was burning in protest already. He parted his lips and Michael tilted the glass enough so that the liquid poured gently into his mouth. He even stopped every few seconds so that Julian could swallow. 

“Good.” 

Julian felt himself begin to tremble once the glass of water was finished. 

It was almost time. This was really happening to him.

“No, wait-“

“So as I explained earlier, if you make it to dawn and I haven’t killed you, I’ll let you go. Or I can just kill you now.”

“Wait-“

“The woods are really thick and they stretch out for miles.” 

“Wait-“

“I’ve left a few surprises among the trees as well, just to make things a bit more fun.”

“Please-“

Michael had finished untying him now, and he hoisted Julian up onto his feet by the front of his shirt. He began walking him roughly over to the backdoor, the cold night air hitting them both immediately as soon as it was opened. They were in the middle of the countryside, so there were no lights other than from the kitchen and the moon. It was so dark that Julian couldn’t even see where the woods started.

He pushed back against Michael. He didn’t want to go outside. He didn’t want it to start. The house was unfamiliar territory and he wasn’t safe there either, but it was less terrifying than the cold, dark woods where there were ‘surprises’ waiting for him. 

“This is crazy!” He pleaded, trying desperately to reason with Michael one last time before he would have to spend the entire night running and hiding from him. “You can’t do this! I don’t… I don’t even know why you’re doing it! I deserve an explanation!”

The light from the kitchen shone against Michael’s face, allowing Julian to see the other man’s expression. It was cold, uncaring, and the only emotion that he could spot even a flicker of was anger. Anger that he was demanding an explanation when it didn’t really matter who this revenge was for. It could have been any of them.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes starting now.” Michael shoved him forward, towards the dark outdoors.

Desperate words poured out of Julian’s mouth, promises and bargains and even apologies. Since threats had failed, he was trying something else instead. He’d never really begged before, he’d never had reason to, but he had no other choice now. Begging had never saved any of their dinner guests, but Michael wasn’t a Lambrick. Julian had to try.

“Fourteen minutes.”

A strangled, dry sob came from Julian’s throat. Was there nothing he could say to save himself?

That wasn’t possible. Everyone had  _ something  _ they wanted.

His mind raced, trying to think of something to say. Trying to think of  _ anything  _ to say.

“Thirteen minutes and thirty seconds…”

“Agh!” Julian turned and began to run into the woods. As he ran, his shoes sank into the wet mud on the ground and it splashed up the legs of his pants. Needless to say, he hadn’t dressed for the occasion.

—

Julian couldn’t tell when thirteen minutes (and thirty seconds) had passed. Maybe he’d only been running for five minutes. Maybe he’d been running for an hour. 

His lungs burned and the muscles of his legs ached in protest. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ran so far. 

Had it been when his mom was still alive?

He could vaguely remember running from her around the mansion when he was little. She had been pretending to be a monster. His lungs had burned like this but he’d been laughing. She’d caught him eventually, lifted him up into the air then put him back down and tickled him until he had nearly been sick. 

He placed his hand on a tree, doubling over and trying to catch his breath. 

His heart thudded in his ears, obscuring any sounds around him. 

“Fuck…"

As soon as he could, he began to walk again. He felt like he couldn’t stay in the same place for long. He had to keep moving. He had to put as much distance between himself and Michael as possible.

A short while later, he heard something. Footsteps in the distance that didn’t match his own. 

He shivered. The cold sweat that had spread all over his face adding to the chill. His blood felt like it instantly froze, becoming ice in his veins. Yet his heart kept on pumping, faster than ever. 

He stopped, listened. 

More footsteps. 

He turned around, careful to be as silent as he could. His eyes widened in horror at what he saw. 

Light. 

The bastard was using a flashlight.

He felt a scream rise in his throat but he forced himself to swallow it, he  turned, he _ ran. _

_ — _

Julian ran and ran, ignoring the burning in his lungs and the pounding of his heart. He needed to get away. He needed to escape. He couldn’t let him catch him. He  _ couldn’t. _

He wasn’t going to die in some shitty forest in the middle of nowhere, hunted down like an animal. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

‘Not like this.’ He thought to himself, over and over, forcing himself to keep going.

He would have ran until he had collapsed, but then one of the ‘surprises’ that Michael had talked about sprung on him. Julian screamed a bloodcurdling scream, and a metal trap closed around his left leg, pulling him to the ground with a loud crash.

The footsteps in the distance grew louder and the light from the flashlight grew brighter and soon Julian could see the outline of his hunter. 

The pain of the trap sent him tumbling into panic and he screamed and thrashed and tried to free his leg. 

He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t.

“No, no! Please don’t!” He cried out, waving his arms as the shadow approached him. He tried in vain to bat him away. “Go away! Don’t come near me!”

Michael put his flashlight on the ground and began the process of opening the trap. He didn’t say anything. He looked calm. There wasn’t even a drop of sweat on his forehead.

The mouth of the trap was padded with rubber, so apart from some bruising, there was no serious damage to Julian’s leg. It hurt, but he could still move it. The moment Julian was freed from it, he kicked at Michael like a mad bull while scrambling backwards on his ass. The mud and dirt was all over his cream coloured clothes, but he didn’t care. 

Michael grabbed his legs by the ankles and he pulled him forwards. Then, he let one of them go and struck Julian hard across the face with the back of his hand. Stunned by the blow, Julian’s head felt like it was spinning. 

It was only once he was turned over onto his stomach that he began to regain his senses. 

“No!” He screamed, struggling for all he was worth, but all of his efforts were easily put down by Michael’s superior strength and cool head. He had clearly thought about this for a long time. He knew what he was doing.

He began tying Julian’s hands behind his back with coarse rope. 

“No, no! No, don’t!” 

He tugged down his pants, his underwear.

Julian’s screams ceased to be words and just became incomprehensible cries of protest and fear. Michael struck him again, this time on the ass, and Julian wailed into the dirt. A few more slaps followed, leaving red bruises in their wake. 

“Please don’t! Please, please don’t!”

Julian found his words again, but it was brief. A last attempt to gain his assailant’s mercy.

“I’ll do anything! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

He didn’t know who he was apologising for hurting, for killing. It could have been any of the guests. It might as well have been all of them. 

He heard Michael unzip his fly. Then he grunted in something that resembled pleasure. He was probably getting himself ready. Julian began to sob, tears spilling onto his face, stinging the scratches that the twigs and stones on the ground had made.

“Don’t do this.” He pleaded, the words barely more than a hiccup. They were met by Michael spreading his ass and spitting a wad of hot wet saliva onto his hole. 

Moments later, the blunt tip of Michael’s cock pressed against it and his fingers dug deep into the skin of his ass before moving to grip onto his hips.

His entrance was slow, but it wasn’t out of mercy. It was necessity. Julian was tight and a little saliva wasn’t going to loosen him up any, nor was his fear, his panic.

Julian let out a long, strangled cry, and he found himself praying for unconsciousness. Michael was still pushing into him, but he already felt like he was being torn in two. Any words he had were long gone.

—

A few years ago, Michael would never have thought himself capable of such brutality. But he had meant what he had said to Julian, grief changed people. It could make them crazy.

He had imagined this moment for months. 

He’d imagined how he’d make the Lambricks pay.

When he’d been planning his revenge, he’d spent days finding whatever information he could about the Lambricks. He had seen Julian’s picture in an old newspaper article. It had been taken at some social event, Michael didn’t remember what exactly. He was smiling in it, but it was a cruel, unpleasant little smirk. He’d decided what he would do to him then. 

How many nights had he fallen asleep after jacking off to the thought of fucking him? He’d lost count. It had started as an occasional fantasy, then it became a nightly ritual. 

He was finally doing it. 

It was better than he’d hoped for.

—

“How many people have you done this to? Hm? Just a couple, or did you do it to anyone who took your sick fancy?” Michael asked, smacking him hard on the ass with his open hand again. Then, he reached forward and pressed down on the back of his head, forcing his face further into the mud. Part of him hoped that Julian would drown in it.

Julian didn’t reply. He couldn’t. But if he could have found the words, he would have begged that he hadn’t done this to anyone. He’d  _ tried.  _ He was guilty of that, but he had always been stopped before he could commit the act.

If he knew how it had felt then, would he have still tried?

Julian looked into his soul and he found that he didn’t know the answer. 

Michael kept growling out threats and promises. He kept reminding Julian that he would kill him once he was done with him. That he’d slit his throat. Julian found that he wanted it to be over anyway.

“Fuck… Fuck, I’m close…”

Julian was teetering on the edge of consciousness, the only thing keeping him awake was the pain. He could barely make out what Michael was saying anymore.

“Don’t you fucking dare pass out on me.”

‘Or what? You’ll kill me?’ Julian thought to himself, a last flicker of defiance amongst all the degradation. 

“Aah!” 

Michael came. Loudly.

His hips pounded against Julian’s ass as he rode out his orgasm, each thrust an attempt to make the moment last as long as possible. Both for the sake of his pleasure, and for Julian’s pain. 

He pulled out of him after that and rolled Julian onto his back so that they were face to face. Julian couldn’t see Michael properly because of the dark and the tears that were blurring his vision. That felt like a small mercy. 

“You look disgusting.” Michael spat again, this time hitting the younger man on the face. His saliva mixed with the tears and snot that had already ran over Julian’s cheeks.

There was a rustling sound as Michael reached back to pick something up. Julian couldn’t see what it was at first, but then the moonlight caught the metal of the blade and he saw that it was a knife. He had thought he was ready to die, because he just wanted it over. Then he saw the knife and he began to cry fresh tears. He began to want to live again.

“Don’t, don’t…” He whimpered, his body trembling violently beneath Michael’s muscular form. He was straddling him, crushing him. Julian nearly began to choke on his sobs. “Please let me go… Please, I’ll… I’ll never hurt anyone again. Please.”

He meant it. In that moment, he really meant it.

Michael was silent again. His face, what Julian could see of it, was unreadable. But he still gripped the knife tightly. Whatever his expression meant, it didn’t show a trace of forgiveness or mercy.

Julian kept pleading, kept begging, even though Michael didn’t say anything. He babbled on and on. Full sentences became too much after a while, and so he just said single words. Words like ‘please’ and ‘sorry’ and ‘no’ over and over. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Michael said something back.

“No.” He readjusted his grip on the knife and used his other hand to turn Julian’s head to the side, his throat exposed for the blade to slit. 

Julian opened his mouth to scream, but before he could, he heard dogs barking.

Then the rush of footsteps.

Then, just as Michael turned around to see what the noise was, there was a gunshot. 

Blood splashed over his face and Michael fell over on top of him. He was already dead. The knife was still in his hand.

“Julian?!”

It was his dad. 

How had he found them? Julian didn’t have time to think about it. As soon as he heard his voice, he slipped into unconsciousness.


End file.
